


pressure lock

by natalunasans



Series: Ownership Enough [12]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Caring, Chronic Pain, Deep pressure, Drabble, Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Relationship, Free Will, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Nonbinary Character, Sensory Sensitivity, touch-aversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalunasans/pseuds/natalunasans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... what's the deal with the hugs</p>
            </blockquote>





	pressure lock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halorvic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=halorvic).



> because sort of based on:  
> [[all](http://halorvic.tumblr.com/post/68700663345/)][[this](http://halorvic.tumblr.com/post/51960448433/)][[sort](http://halorvic.tumblr.com/post/50377964809/)][[of](http://halorvic.tumblr.com/post/99252019164/)][[thing](http://halorvic.tumblr.com/post/105386220084/)]

The Doctor flung their long arms and the flaps of their soft wool coat around the Master, enveloping him in a hug.  

The Master growled.  His spiky light hair seemed to stand on end like the fur of an angry cat.

Touch was painful, as a rule.  There was the natural Gallifreyan tactile avoidance, because it would be too complicated, too intimate, letting other people that close to your mind all the time.  Add to that all the impossible things he’d put this particular body through, only some of which the TARDIS had been able to repair, and he was left with nerve-endings and muscles that interpreted nearly everything as an attack.

So now he always sought out soft textures, trading his previous lives’ neat suits for hoodies and broken-in jeans. He'd learnt that while living rough, when he was a live wire and his body's changing states felt like being toggled back and forth between broken and molten glass.  Now, with his life-force re-balanced, rid of the ‘superpowers’ that had been killing him, he was no longer dying but felt more fragile.  He’d had to learn to move slowly to conserve energy and avoid crashing into things around the ship (easier said than done, with several of his many senses also not quite right).  There were still too many days when his whole body ached and he wished to disintegrate and float away like dust.

But the Doctor’s hugs!  Even if his skin and his bones and everything in between were hurting, the Master would always try to accept, especially if his body temperature had dropped suddenly, as it often did.  The Doctor was warm... not too much, not feverish like a human, but just enough to soothe an ache that wasn’t only in his muscles.  And so much stronger than they looked, the silly beanpole. If you were a grenade, they'd jump to cover you, they’d hold you together (whether you wanted it or not) when you were about to burst into small jagged pieces.

He couldn't completely explain how he still needed deep pressure, even when it felt like a bed of nails. Partly it was that most days everything felt like a bed of nails. And sometimes the Doctor was a link, albeit an unlikely one, to reality.

The thing about the Doctor at the moment, though, was their joy at finding him again.  Their cheer wasn't exactly contagious, and the Master would maintain he found it irritating.  But he couldn't bear to see that cheeky grin falter and fall.  Not just the pity and the apologies... The Doctor was using him to distract themself from everything else they’d lost, and he couldn't stand to leave them to that sadness.  If there was still something he could choose to protect the Doctor from, that meant he still had agency and free will.

So the Master stood there (holding himself together inside, as the Doctor held him tight) and growled to keep from crying.


End file.
